


this is a gift

by lasciel



Series: Rabbit Heart [4]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Altered Mental States, Bonding, Choking, Come Inflation, Explicit Sexual Content, Feeding, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 02:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4859270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciel/pseuds/lasciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What is it?” Only a clipped answer, and Jack still sounds miffed, but Rhys can totally work with that. </p><p>He lets his voice drop into a purr. “I'm feeling <i>really</i> hot right now,” Rhys says quietly, because he's a suave wordsmith of the highest calibre, and maybe even a bit in awe of his own cleverness right now.</p><p>“That's nice, baby,” Jack answers, dry like a desert, “but daddy's working right now.”</p><p>Muffled laughter coming from numerous throats in the background, and then the line goes silent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is a gift

**Author's Note:**

> Heat fic? Heat fic!!
> 
> or
> 
> [ledgem](http://ledgem.tumblr.com/) asks herself: "how much porn can I fit into one fic? ...challenge accepted."
> 
> this one's for all of you. thank you so much for the wonderful support <3 
> 
> also, anything mentioned in this one that leaves you going "wait, I don't remember that happening"? a few weeks passed between [raise it up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4673660) and this one, leaving me enough space to fit in at least two more (kinky) fics, just fyi!

Jack comes inside of him, and Rhys hums contently. It turns into a sound of dismay when Jack pulls out immediately, transforming into a groan of indignation when it's not Jack's knot pushing into him but one of the larger plugs the alpha now always keeps at hand. Rhys twists around on the desk, turning to glare at Jack.

“Shut it,” Jack says without even looking at him, tracing over where Rhys' ass is gripping the plug with a prodding finger.

Rhys has a moment to hope that Jack will change his mind, but then the alpha looks down at himself. He scowls at his cock, still curved, knot thick at its base. “And you as well!” He zips up his trousers carefully, looking murderous.

Sighing quietly, Rhys adjusts his pants, making a face when the wet patch at the front is pressed against his skin. At least Jack let him come before calling an end to this 'date'. He smiles mirthlessly to himself, zipping up as well and then trying to adjust his clothes so he doesn't look like he was just bend over Handsome Jack's desk for a quickie. Even if he'll still smell the part.

“Fuck, look at the mess you made, princess.” Jack's staring at the clutter of papers strewn over the desk, 'approved' and 'confidential' in intimidating red letters on them. He draws a hand through his hair, a rare display of helpless frustration.

Rhys inhales deeply, even though the smell of sex, the combination of their scents only makes him painfully aware that he needs _more_. But now that he isn't taking The Pills anymore, there's at least two considerable upsides to this entire situation.

One, he's guilt-free again. Well, as guilt free as you can be as an Hyperion employee.

Two, when Jack is being a dick again, Rhys can snarl right back.

“I'm _so_ sorry for messing up your precious paperwork when you pushed me on your desk,” he says sweetly, slowly moving away from the alpha, just in case.

But Jack only nods, looking annoyed when his wristband beeps. “I don't even know why I called you. I don't have time for this today.”

Rhys bites his tongue, striding away angrily. Great, not only does Jack only deem him worthy of a quick fuck now, the alpha didn't even _want_ it. He thought maybe the drop wouldn't be so bad this time, without the knotting, but already his skin is beginning to itch, a restless feeling settling in his stomach. The stupid plug in his ass, and the wetness at his front certainly don't help.

“And leave the goddamn plug in today or I'll welt it to your ass!” Jack calls after him.

Rhys rolls his eyes, turning back from the door because he's apparently going to have a shouting match with his boss now. “Can't, I have a meeting in an hour!” _And I need serious cuddle time with Vaughn and Yvette before that_ , he adds to himself.

At least the drops aren't quite so bad anymore in general or maybe he's just getting used to them. Just like the stupid plugs the alpha keeps pushing into him.

Jack scowls at him, but it's not that effective considering he's on the other end of his ridiculously huge office. “How long until your heat?”

Rhys inhales deeply, desperately searching for some patience and the air to make his lungs work. “Considering only one day passed since you last asked me this, it's now three days since I should have taken suppressants again!” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “And I _still_ don't know how long it's going to take!” Seriously, Jack is like a— like a child throwing a tantrum over a broken toy.

He shivers, hugging himself. He's not a broken toy. He's not a toy, period. Forget about his drops getting better, it's only becoming more difficult to separate his own thoughts from the drop induced ones. 

Rhys really needs those cuddles now.

Jack's grumbling under his breath, Rhys is pretty sure of that, but he doesn't say anything else and so Rhys leaves, awkwardly walking back to their apartment with the stupid plug making itself known every step of the way.

* * *

For the first time in, well, ever, cuddling with Yvette and Vaughn doesn't help. He feels... itchy. Unsettled, but can't pinpoint _why_.

He takes the plug out before leaving for the meeting, because he feels awful enough without it in him. 

Rhys didn't sit in on many of these yet, but he already knows that they are basically just a lot of hot air and really huge egos clashing against each other in a small space.

“Our productivity increased by 0.16% in the last month,” declares supervisor A, a severe-looking female beta whose profile reminds him of Yvette in a certain light.

Supervisor B, a mousy looking female alpha, declares immediately, “We had no sick days at all in the last quarter!” And then supervisor C, a male beta who looks a bit like Vasquez' uglier brother actually stands up, proclaiming proudly, “Handsome Jack personally praised my division’s work last week!”

A moment of silence and then supervisor B snorts. “I know you have vivid dreams about Handsome Jack, but that's really sad, even for you.”

“Show us an ECHO of that or it didn't happen!” another voice from somewhere to Rhys' right chimes in, but Rhys can't be bothered to turn his head in their direction. 

He manages to muster up a facsimile of a smile when the room erupts into laughter, but the rest of the meeting washes over him, and nobody disturbs him in his silent trance. They probably still don't really know what his job entails or where he's standing in the precarious Hyperion hierarchy. 

_Welcome to the club_ , Rhys almost wants to tell them. When Jack promoted him, there actually wasn't a fitting job opening for him, and so Jack just made one up. And so Rhys' job title — if you've got the necessary clearance to check it — actually says: 'Supervisor of Things'. It should probably bother Rhys, but he's learned to just roll with what Jack throws his way, and it's actually pretty cool to be here, to sit with the important people.

But usually Rhys doesn't feel like shit, and he really just wants for this sad excuse of a meeting to end.

* * *

Back home he takes off his metal arm, changes into his favourite Hyperion shirt, a faded yellow one, and shorts, before curling himself back around Yvette and Vaughn who are already back home again and lounging around on his bed. They pet him, talking about their day, and he doesn't even have to say anything.

By the time he's shivering, it's probably already painfully obvious that something is wrong with him.

“You sure this is just a prolonged drop?” Yvette asks him, scratching gently at his neck. “Did he do anything... different today?”

Which is her very careful way of inquiring if Jack accidentally managed to break him.

Rhys sighs silently, pressing his head more firmly against Vaughn's chest.

He remembers how Jack pressed him against the desk, not even letting him undress before the alpha was already on him, preparing him with deft fingers, barely for long enough so that Jack could push into him. Only for a quickie, but somehow still intense enough to make Rhys shiver just thinking about it. 

After the things Jack already did to him, the thought of a careless quickie being enough to break him is almost laughable — if he wasn't feeling so terrible. But he probably shouldn't tell his friends about why he can't look at Jack's chair anymore without trembling or about the lesson in trust Jack taught him with blood and death. 

Rhys would probably find himself on the next shuttle off of Helios with them before he has even finished speaking. 

“No,” he says quietly, instead of sharing any of that, a lopsided smile on his lips.

Even with his eyes closed, he can practically _hear_ Yvette frown, and the concerned look his friends share over his head.

Vaughn strokes over his hair. “Could it be a cold? Or maybe your heat?”

Rhys groans, weakly hitting Vaughn with his palm. “Not you as well! I'm not even a week past my pill, who knows how much longer it will take.”

Yvette strokes his side, presses a kiss to his sweaty temple. “Maybe you just need some rest. Jack can't seem to keep his hands off of you for even a day, no wonder it's taking a toll on you.”

Her words cause something to stir inside of his chest, a warm, tingling feeling. Rhys never thought about it like that before, convinced himself that he was a burden to Jack, a bothersome task the alpha had to fit into his daily routine, but this...

He hides his grin in Vaughn's shirt, making a soft sound of agreement. 

“How high are the chances he's going to call on you again today?” Vaughn asks after a moment.

Jack didn't really seem satisfied by the quickie, either. Rhys makes a face.

Yvette laughs softly, shifting to the side and reaching for the small communicator Jack gave him. She presses it into his hand with a raised eyebrow, and he nods his thanks, pressing a button on it.

“Missing me already, princess?” Jack's voice purrs, unnaturally loud in the quiet room.

Vaughn sticks out his tongue exaggeratedly, and Yvette shakes her head, smiling.

Rhys clears his throat, sounding awfully unsure even to his own ears. “Actually, I'm not feeling too hot. I think I might be coming down with something.” Meaning: In case you were thinking about calling for me again today, forget about it.

Jack snorts, and Rhys is pretty sure he's rolling his eyes. “Fine. But I hope for your sake that the plug is still where it's supposed to be— in your tight, little ass.”

He stares at the abruptly silent wristband for a moment, feeling his face flush.

Vaughn snorts. “Is it too early to say 'I told you so'?”

Yvette sighs, her face giving away nothing when she punches Vaughn's arm.

“Hey!” Vaughn frowns, hunching into himself. “I'm not actually saying it, back off, you barbarian!” 

“Get some rest, Rhys,” Yvette tells him softly, gently stroking over his throat.

Rhys sniffs. “He's a busy man.” He doesn't actually know why he's defending Jack, but here he is, probably making a fool out of himself in front of his friends.

“The busiest,” Yvette tells him solemnly, “and yet he still manages to squeeze you in between making his employees cry and destroying his competition.”

Rhys smiles slightly, and he still feels weird and sick, but he dozes off quickly with Yvette's voice echoing in his head, _Jack can't seem to keep his hands off of you._

* * *

Rhys wakes up sweaty, with two of his fingers in his ass, his cock hard and leaking and his friends thankfully not around.

He bites his lip as an orgasm races through him, catching him by surprise. It doesn't do anything but leave him lying in his own semen, not diminishing the hot arousal burning through him at all.

The universe must be having a really good laugh at his expense right now, and Rhys screams his frustration into his pillow.

He lies there for a while, staring at the grey ceiling above him, his pulse thudding in his ears. There's no denying it, this really is his heat. Rhys smiles, absently scratching over his nipple. Maybe his body was just as eager for it as Jack was.

Thinking about Jack makes him shiver, and his hand wanders down to his cock, stroking it slowly. When slick begins to drip out of his ass, he realises that just thinking longingly about the alpha won't actually be enough to summon him, and he stops touching himself, biting his lip. Rhys slowly shuffles towards the edge of the bed, and where the bedding comes into contact with his skin, goosebumps raise.

Was he this sensitive during his last heat as well? He can't really remember the beginnings of it anymore, after two years.

Rhys looks at the small wristband-comm Jack gave him, a mirror of the alpha's own. Only with probably way less functions, and with only one person coded in.

He carefully takes it from the bedside table with trembling fingers, smiling softly to himself as he traces over its hard contours. Usually he wears it around his metal arm, because Jack actually designed it to be able to interface with it one day. But Rhys already knows that he won't put the arm back on today, because the intense and still weird feeling of attaching it would probably just make him come, and he really doesn't need that mental connection with something he does daily.

Rhys lets himself fall back on the bed, turning onto his front. The sudden friction against his cock makes him shudder, and he rubs himself against the smooth bedding until he comes again with a choked groan.

He pants into his pillow, the comm clutched desperately between his fingers. Great, now he's lying in a pool of sticky come, and he _really_ needs Jack.

“Be cool about this,” Rhys tells himself sternly. His last call with Jack didn't go so well, but now Rhys has really good news for the alpha. His lips curl into a grin, and he coughs once, mentally preparing himself. Rhys presses the button, smile turning dopey when Jack answers almost immediately.

“What is it?” Only a clipped answer, and Jack still sounds miffed, but Rhys can totally work with that. 

He lets his voice drop into a purr. “I'm feeling _really_ hot right now,” Rhys says quietly, because he's a suave wordsmith of the highest calibre, and maybe even a bit in awe of his own cleverness right now.

“That's nice, baby,” Jack answers, dry like a desert, “but daddy's working right now.”

Muffled laughter coming from numerous throats in the background, and then the line goes silent.

For a long moment, Rhys stares disbelievingly at the comm in his palm, completely taken by surprise. Then he growls, and throws the stupid thing against the wall, grinning triumphantly when it lands with a loud thud.

Jack is _such an asshole_. Rhys can't believe he was genuinely looking forward to spending his heat with him. “Working, huh? Well, then _daddy_ can go fuck himself!” he tells nobody in particular, fuming. Maybe he should just spend this heat with Yvette and Vaughn as well. A revival of two years ago, sort of. His fingers clench and unclench on the bedcover, and he's only dimply aware that he's humping his bed again.

He isn't that petty, but he could do that. At least his friends know how to properly treat an omega. Rhys grins crookedly, digging his nails into the bedding, chasing after the sweet relief beckoning him.

Scratch that, Rhys totally _is_ that petty.

He imagines Jack's shocked face when he enters Rhys' room after Rhys goes AWOL on him, only to find him deep in heat, entwined with the naked bodies of his best friends. _That_ would teach the asshole not to give Rhys the time of the day.

He moans when another orgasm races though him, leaving Rhys even more of a mess and desperate for the next one.

A knock on his door. “You okay, Rhys?” Vaughn asks, voice muffled.

The door opens as if in slow motion, and Rhys stares at it, transfixed, his thoughts falling over themselves.

Vaughn knows him, his body. And Rhys knows if he asked, Vaughn wouldn't even hesitate before getting naked with him and calling Yvette over to join them.

But Rhys also knows that Jack would kill his friends without batting an eye, would make Rhys _watch_ while he does it. And then he would probably kill Rhys as well, because Handsome Jack doesn't suffer betrayal, and he made certain Rhys understood that.

“It's my heat!” Rhys calls quickly, before the door is open more than a gap, and Vaughn curses, closing it again immediately.

There's a moment of silence, and then Vaughn calls, sounding just as helpless as Rhys feels, “Do you need anything?”

Rhys needs another hand on his cock, and much more pressingly, he needs someone to hold him down, to fuck into his slick and empty hole until he screams.

 _I need Jack_ , he thinks helplessly, biting his tongue before he can utter the words in a pathetic whine. “I'm calling Jack!” It's more of a warning than anything else, because he doesn't know if Yvette's still there, and if his friends would rather bail before Jack takes offence at their mere presence or for infringing on his territory.

Even if that territory is Rhys himself.

Vaughn's weirdly quiet for a moment, and Rhys hopes that he didn't accidentally inhale too much of the “please fuck me” scent Rhys is emitting right now. “Okay, shout if you need anything!”

He exhales in relief when Vaughn's steps become quieter. Rhys really doesn't want to get his friends killed. Or himself for that matter.

The air is thick with the smell of him and his come, and Rhys shudders, forcing his hips to still. He stares at the wristband, flung into a corner seemingly on another planet. Seriously, whose bright idea was it to throw it so far away? He scowls at it, slowly moving off the bed, and every bit of contact against his burning skin is at once too much and not enough. Rhys takes a shaky step towards it, cursing the universe, his body and especially Jack with every step.

Bending down is more than awkward with the slick running down his legs, and he knocks his head against a shelf. He barely notices it, leaning against another one, while his trembling fingers clutch around Jack's present again.

He manages to shuffle back to the bed, groans when he falls on it again, not caring about the wet spots he's lying in. This time he doesn't wait until Jack says anything, speaking as soon as he hears the telltale click of the call being accepted. “It's my heat.”

Rhys cuts the line immediately again, leaving the 'asshole' silent but heavily implied. He grins, taking immense — and, fine, petty — satisfaction in having had the last word this time.

The comm falls from his hand, and he shoves two of his fingers into his ass, groaning despairingly, because it's _not enough_.

What if Jack didn't hear him? Rhys bites his lip, rubbing himself against the soiled bedcover.

This time the orgasm doesn't come easy, and he stabs his fingers almost viciously into himself, chasing relief, tears of frustration prickling at the corners of his eyes.

He comes with a muffled sob, feeling like he'll burn from the inside out. Rhys pants into the bedding, his chest heaving.

What if Jack doesn't want him anymore? What if he's had enough of Rhys being so complicated and difficult? A quiet, hurt sound tears itself out of his mouth, and Rhys is too late to swallow it. It etches itself into his ears, and he stares at his door with blurry eyes, letting the time pass, he doesn't know for how long.

Even if he wanted to, he doesn't have the energy to call for Vaughn anymore.

And his cock is still hard, glamouring for the next orgasm that will only make everything worse.

Voices tickle at his senses, and he perks up, sluggishly tilting his head to hear better.

Rhys removes his fingers from his ass in the next second, moving hastily towards the door, because it's his alpha, Jack's _here_. He falls against the door, practically throwing it open—

Vaughn and Jack are having a face off in the living room, and it's a weird enough picture to make Rhys pause, even in his heat induced haze.

Jack has one hand bend at the hip, a bag in his other one. He's staring down at Vaughn who has his arms crossed in front of his chest, unflinchingly staring right back.

Rhys makes a quiet sound, and both of them turn to look at him immediately. He tries not to fidget under the attention, wondering at he picture he must make right now. Hair dishevelled and falling into his eyes, face flushed, cock curved and hard, and his legs wet with the slick leaking out of him.

A slow, wide grin claims Jack's lips, and Rhys swallows, his heartbeat fluttering.

And then Vaughn moves towards Rhys, leaving Jack to stare at his back with angry disbelief. 

Rhys blinks at Vaughn when he comes to a stop in front of him.

“You sure about this? Yvette didn't go far.” His eyes say 'together we can totally take him', and even though Vaughn's voice is quiet, concerned, there's no way Jack didn't hear the question. Vaughn inhales deeply, probably without being aware of it, and his cheeks flush.

Rhys smiles, ignoring the ball of nervousness that is sitting heavily in his stomach, now that Jack is actually here. “Yeah,” he answers, equally quietly.

Vaughn nods, and he leans up, presses a quick kiss to Rhys' chin. He turns around then, visibly straightening his back before walking past Jack without even looking at him.

Jack takes his place in front of Rhys quickly, still staring after Vaughn even after the door to the apartment opened and closed already. “You know, I think that was a direct challenge.” His mouth is a grim line, both of his eyebrows arched high up on his forehead. 

He's also really close to Rhys, and he smells _divine_.

“Who does the midget think he is? I think it's high time I teach that little—”

Rhys whines loudly, pressing himself against Jack. “You're still dressed.” He rubs his cock against Jack's side, moaning fretfully. A rough palm fits itself over the back of Rhys' neck, tilting his head so Jack can look at his face.

The alpha's nostrils flare as he inhales, and Rhys can only hope he smells half as good to Jack as the alpha does to him. A low rumble vibrates between them, and Rhys shivers, moulding himself against Jack's body completely. More slick leaks out of him, running wetly down his legs. “Please,” he begs quietly, voice hoarse.

But Jack still isn't moving, eyes mere slits while he considers Rhys, and maybe they aren't compatible after all, maybe the alpha will leave again—

Rhys whimpers, the fingernails of his hand digging into Jack's collar, because if Jack leaves now, Rhys is going to _die_.

Jack's mouth closes over his chin, sucking on it for a confusing and exhilarating moment before the alpha leans back again with a wet swipe of his tongue. “Better,” Jack growls, slowly walking Rhys backwards into his room.

Blinking dazedly with his hand still fisted into Jack's shirt, it takes a few heartbeats until Rhys realises that Jack just got rid of any trace of Vaughn's kiss on his skin. That the alpha just marked him, his territory.

The fire in him reaches another level, and Rhys is trembling again, thoughts falling over themselves like a house of cards. He tugs at Jack's shirt, at his vest, and why is the alpha still not naked yet? “Please,” he whines, a tint of despair to it. His legs hit the edge of the bed then, and Jack pushes him onto it, making Rhys end in an ungainly sprawl, his heart fluttering wildly inside of his chest.

The alpha opens his mouth, but he doesn't say anything. Instead he inhales deeply once more, lips parted, and then he hisses out a long breath. “Already started without me, Rhysie?” The bag falls from his hand and Jack finally, finally begins to undress himself.

Rhys nods, and he only knows what Jack is talking about because he's lying in at least two wet spots right now. He licks his lips, staring greedily while the alpha bares himself.

Jack's pants fall to the floor, revealing his cock, dark and hardening and perfect, and Rhys whimpers, his ass clenching on cruel nothingness.

“See anything you like, babe?” the alpha asks in a low purr, stroking himself leisurely with one hand.

Turning onto his front is an uncoordinated affair. Rhys almost loses his balance and topples right off the bed, so eager is he to press his knees into it, to raise his ass up into the air, offering himself to Jack. Belatedly, Rhys wishes he had reattached his other arm after all, so he could spread his hole for the alpha, to show him how slick and ready he is for him. As it is, he needs his left arm to rest his head on, while he stares at Jack over his shoulder, begging with eyes and words alike. “Please, Jack, _please_.”

“Damn.” Jack whistles, voice tight. “Gimme a second, I brought enough lube to last us a month.”

The alpha bends down, and only then do his words register within Rhys' hazy mind, startling a laugh out of him, bordering on hysterical. Of all the— now is neither the place nor the time for the alpha to get all _considerate_ on him.

Jack rightens himself again, frowning down at Rhys.

“I woke up ready for you,” Rhys says breathlessly, waggling his ass, still leaking and _empty_. It probably only makes sense to himself, but he really doesn't have the mental capacity for more. He just hopes that Jack will _get on with the program now_.

A feral grin spreads over the alpha's lips, and he shrugs with one shoulder before he gets on the bed, positioning himself behind Rhys. He places his warm, huge hands on Rhys' ass, spreading his wet hole open with his thumbs, and Rhys makes a small sound, somewhere between a relieved sob and a groan, holding himself still in giddy anticipation. “How can I say no to that? But I don't want to hear any complains after.”

Rhys' lips part, but instead of words only the air in his lungs leave past them, because Jack's pushing into him, and despite the amount of slick inside of his ass, Rhys wasn't nearly prepared enough to take it. It hurts or it probably does, but Rhys is lost to the fire burning through his veins, lost in the feeling of finally being filled by his alpha. He comes with a choked scream while Jack's still working his cock into him, his own cock spurting onto the bed until the alpha bottoms out with a loud moan.

The force of his orgasm leaves him shuddering, and he goes boneless under Jack, only held up by the alpha's strong grip on his hips.

“Did you just come?” Jack chuckles, sounding delighted. One of his palms curls around Rhys' still dripping cock, and Rhys arches his back, shocked into breathing again.

“Please,” he begs once more, like a broken ECHO device, “I need—” _You, more, you_ , his mind sings, and he bites his tongue, desperately pressing his ass against Jack.

The alpha withdraws, slow enough to make Rhys feel every maddening inch of him, until only his tip is still inside of Rhys, and Rhys is shaking, falling apart or becoming whole again. “We're in for a wild ride, babe,” Jack promises him throatily, and then he thrusts in again, the hold of his hand around Rhys' cock hard enough to make him see stars, fucking him in earnest while all Rhys can do is drool onto the bedcover, small, needy sounds falling from his open mouth.

Rhys' fingers are clutched into the blanket, his whole body's shaking with every thrust, and he's crying, staring at nothing with blurry eyes, a blissful smile on his parted lips.

Another orgasm rocks through him when Jack pushes his knot inside of him, and he groans wetly.

Jack rests his forehead against Rhys' sweaty neck, exhaling loudly, and then he spends himself inside of Rhys, warm and wonderful. The alpha lets himself fall, taking Rhys down with him, pressing Rhys into the bed with his full weight.

The knot inside of his ass shifts with the sudden movement, and Rhys moans, awkwardly shuffling his arm away from underneath his face.

The alpha sucks on his neck, his hands wandering up and down Rhys' heaving sides. “Want me to move, princess?” he asks quietly, sounding satisfied, _pleased_.

The smile on Rhys' lips turns even wider, even as he bends his arm, digging his fingernails into the yielding flesh of Jack's ass ruthlessly. “No.” It's an order, even if his hoarse voice takes away from its vehemency, even if breathing is difficult like this, with his alpha's body pressing him into the bed.

“Good answer.” Jack sucks at the nape of his neck until the skin is smarting, and Rhys shifts underneath him mindlessly, rubbing his cock against the bed, the alpha's knot pulling at his hole.

Jack hisses, his palms moving down to Rhys' thighs, pushing them apart roughly. He grinds his hips against Rhys', increasing the painful pull on the both of them. “ _Fuck_.” The alpha bites his neck again, sucks on it in the next instant, seemingly unable to decide on one of the two. “You taste so good, I could just eat you up.”

Rhys hums, far away from sated but content, absently petting Jack's ass in a silent compliment. He basks in the huge cock stretching him, the come filling him, while his alpha marks every stretch of skin he can reach.

The calm lasts until the knot slips out of Rhys again, and Jack rolls off of him, taking with him his weight and allowing the fire back into Rhys' veins.

The alpha moves backwards until his back is against the wall, fingers tapping restlessly on the bed while he critically eyes Rhys' room, and Rhys' rolls himself onto his side, looking at him alertly.

“Been a while since I last fucked someone during their heat.” He throws a quick glance Rhys' way, one eyebrow raised. “Of course it goes without saying that I can't stay for an entire week of this.”

Rhys makes a quiet sound that could be taken as agreement, slowly shifting himself onto his front.

“Hyperion doesn't run itself, and one day without me would probably be enough to make Helios fall into ruin around us,” Jack continues, eyes settling on something behind Rhys. He frowns. “You know, we should take this to my office. You remember the nice and snazzy bedroom I've got there?” The alpha laughs. “I mean, you were pretty out of it last time you were there — which, again, totally wasn't my fault.”

On some level Rhys is aware that the alpha is speaking, but he also knows that he can safely ignore the words while he slowly edges towards his prize.

“Also, even if that's an absolutely dashing poster you've got of me there, it's a bit weird fucking somebody with, well, myself looking on, even by my own standards.” He snorts, shaking his head, and Rhys only spares a glance at the 'New Face of Hyperion' vintage poster he spent an entire month's salary on. “And no offence, Rhysie, I've had sex in dingier places. After all, I've been on Pandora and Elpis both, but— fuck!”

Rhys dives forward, greedily sucking Jack's half hard cock into his mouth. He moans around it, eyes fluttering shut at the heady taste of his own slick and Jack's come clinging to it.

Fingers take a hold of his hair, and Rhys lets his teeth graze over the filling cock in his mouth in warning, just in case the hand is planning on pulling him off of it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jack says again, with feeling, and Rhys hums, hollowing his cheeks and swallowing the cock completely until his nose is pressed into dark curls, his fingers clutching onto a strong thigh for support.

Jack scratches over his scalp, his voice deep. “Sweetheart, give a guy a warning before you suck him up like a miniature vacuum, would ya.”

Rhys' blinks his eyes open again, staring up at the alpha with watering eyes. He begins to move his head up and down on the now fully hard cock in his mouth, and his heartbeat flutters when Jack's other hand curls around the front of his throat, obviously trying to feel where the alpha's cock is stretching it.

“Your mouth was made to suck cock.” Jack growls, pressing against Rhys' throat lightly, and Rhys whines, muffled by the weight in his mouth. “ _My_ cock, if we're being honest here.” He drags his nails over Rhys' scalp, his eyes wide. “Isn't that right, Rhysie?”

Rhys drags his tongue along the underside of the alpha's cock in answer, letting it fall from his mouth with an obscene noise. He licks his lips, appraising his handiwork for a breath before he raises himself up onto his hand, then his knees, his fingers moving to Jack's shoulder. Rhys rubs his ass against the alpha's cock, trying to get it back inside of him. It eludes him though, and he blinks at Jack slowly, a quiet, mournful sound falling from his lips.

“I know I'm repeating myself here, but fuck.” The alpha chuckles breathlessly, grinning up at him. “You're really hot like this.” One of his hands settles on Rhys' side, while the other one helps with guiding his cock back into Rhys' hole.

He lets himself sink onto the thick cock again, sighing happily at the stretch of it. Rhys leans forward, pressing his face against Jack's, breathing in his alpha's smell. He begins to slowly grind himself on Jack's cock, while Jack's fingers stroke over his sides and his ass, teasing at his filled hole with playful prodding.

But soon the demand for _more_ becomes too much again, overpowering him, and he pants into the alpha's hair, desperately fucking himself on Jack's cock, and the alpha thrusts his hips up, meeting him halfway and grunting with the effort of it.

Fingers grip Rhys' hair again, wrenching his head back, and then Jack's mouth latches onto his right nipple, sucking on it.

Rhys makes a keening sound, hips bucking helplessly, cock hard and leaking between their bodies. Jack's knot teases at his opening, not quite pushing in yet, and Rhys groans, fingers digging into Jack's shoulder, craving it with every fibre of his being, while Jack bites at his chest, at the tattoo on it, almost mindlessly.

Jack growls, low and for long enough to make the fine hairs on Rhys' body raise up. The alpha bites down on his other nipple then, taking it between his teeth and _pulling_ while his knot forces itself into Rhys, and Rhys comes with a hoarse shout, painting himself and Jack with his release.

The alpha laughs quietly, and then he spends himself inside of Rhys, filling him with more of his warmth.

Rhys sucks air into his mouth desperately, head still tilted back, only Jack's hands keeping him upright.

A soft sound, and then Jack's lips are back on him, ghosting over his neck and shoulder, almost tenderly.

He's a bit more grounded with the knot thick inside of him, with the come pouring into his belly. His thoughts clear. Maybe now the pheromones and the smell of sex are finally getting to the alpha's head as well, because Rhys is pretty sure he said something about leaving earlier or about taking this to Jack's office? He shivers, hesitantly nuzzling at Jack's temple, testing the waters. Because even though he has spent a lot of time in Jack's office, most even pleasant... it's not home, doesn't even feel _safe_. 

But the memories of all the drops he went through in the months since he met Handsome Jack are distant now, easy enough to ignore with Jack's mouth on his shoulder again, with strong hands on his thighs.

Rhys licks idly over the edges of Jack's mask, moaning when the taste of the alpha's sweat hits his tongue, still so addictive it makes his head spin.

Jack lets up from his skin, leaving a smarting, tingling bite behind, and Rhys smiles.

The knot inside of him begins to shrink and Rhys rotates his hips unhappily, seeking the crumbling calm the stretch brings him.

The hands on his hips still his movements immediately, and Rhys scowls at a crookedly grinning Jack. “Don't pout, babe. Daddy needs a bit of a breather.” The alpha's voice is rough, and Rhys swallows thickly, becoming aware of how parched and sore his own throat is.

He lets himself be guided down and onto his side, trying not to whine when Jack's cock slips out of him. Jack stretches out over the bed, rummaging in the bag he dropped in front of it earlier, and Rhys watches the play of muscles on the alpha's back avidly, his cock taking an interest again. Without thinking about it, Rhys pushes two of his fingers into his ass, wanting to keep the come leaking from it inside of him, while he listens to Jack hum under his breath.

A small sound of triumph, and Jack rightens himself again, a bright, red bottle in one hand. He raises an eyebrow at Rhys when he notices his busy hand, grabbing into the bag once more. “I've got something more effective for that.” He presents a plug, waving it at Rhys.

Rhys eyes the black plug with pursed lips, pushing his fingers deeper into himself. It's a thick one that Rhys hasn't worn often yet because he’s usually too sore for its now tempting looking girth, but... he's also still really miffed about getting a stupid plug shoved into him last time, instead of the real thing. “Your cock or nothing at all,” he decides imperiously, chin raised while he grudgingly stops fingering himself, resting his hand on his leg.

Jack whistles, letting go of the plug and scooting over to him with only the bottle still in his hands. “Bossy, bossy,” the alpha says with a mischievous grin on his lips. He looms over Rhys for a moment, staring down at him with keen eyes.

“I learned from the best.” Rhys smiles slightly, trying to memorise the amused contours of Jack's face, the easy and relaxed way he holds himself.

The alpha chuckles, bending down to suck on Rhys' Adam's apple. “That you did.” His breath is cool on the wet skin he left behind, and Rhys sighs, tilting his head back, baring his throat even further to Jack who takes him up on the offer with a growl, mouthing down Rhys' chest and giving him another hickey there.

Jack leans back again, blinking slowly once before he seems to come back to himself. He opens the bottle with a practised flick of his thumb. “It's too sweet for my liking, but I think you'll love it,” Jack says, taking a swing of the bottle's contents.

Rhys is entranced by the long line of the alpha's throat as he swallows, and he laughs quietly when Jack grimaces at the apparently too sweet taste. A startled gasp escapes him when Jack suddenly leans back in, his warm hand tilting Rhys' head up. The alpha takes advantage of his surprise, smashing their mouths together, sharing the liquid with him.

Rhys coughs at the sharpness of it going down his throat, chin and lips wet with it.

The alpha's lips are curled into a wide smirk, painted bright red. “Love the colour on you, babe.” His teeth are tinted red as well, like blood, and Rhys almost snorts at the peculiar choice of drink. “Packs a punch as well,” Jack says quietly before swallowing another mouthful, but this time Rhys anticipates him, sucking the wonderfully sweet liquor into his mouth and the alpha's tongue with it.

Jack's palm is a perfect fit on the side of his throat, and Rhys leans up when the alpha withdraws again, desperate less for the alcohol but for the man himself, his attention, every scrap of it that Rhys can get.

“Happy first heat to us,” Jack purrs, taking another gulp from the bottle before holding it to Rhys' lips. “Drink, Rhysie, you look thirsty.” He laughs, a darkly amused sound. “Not just for me, I mean,” he adds with a self-satisfied wink.

 _Mostly just for you_ , Rhys thinks absently, swallowing a sigh and the liquid being slowly poured down his throat. He presses his fingers into Jack's thigh when he's had enough, beginning to feel light-headed. At least the fire still burning inside of him is dimmed slightly.

The alpha empties the bottle with one long swallow. He draws the back of his hand over his mouth, smearing the red even further before carelessly throwing the bottle behind himself.

Rhys winces at the dull thud it makes when it lands on the floor, vaguely peeved by the stains he'll doubtlessly have to clean later. The thought vanishes quickly when Jack's red mouth moves closer again.

“You're a mess.” The alpha sounds almost gleeful, and he licks over Rhys' lips, his chin and Rhys feels dizzy, sensitive all over.

“Look who's talking,” Rhys murmurs, hand fisting into Jack's messy hair, while he sucks on the alpha's lips. He reluctantly parts with a swipe of his tongue over Jack's chin, leaving a red mark on it, weirdly satisfying to look at. 

Jack got it all wrong, blood red is definitely _his_ colour, not Rhys'.

The alpha hums, hands lazily stroking over Rhys' body before urging and helping Rhys to turn around. Jack lies down as well, his chest hot against Rhys' back.

With the sweat and come clinging to their skin they'll probably end up stuck together, but Rhys can't quite bring himself to care about that when his alpha's arms come around him, pressing them even closer together. Jack's mouth sucks on his throat, high up on it, awakening an unspecific, reckless anticipation in him.

“Get the lights, babe,” Jack tells him, breath puffing against the nape of Rhys' neck.

He makes a quiet noise of confirmation, body still humming, his blood still burning for more, but it all seems less urgent now. Rhys activates his ECHO eye with a slow blink, actually having to concentrate for a moment, and then the room falls dark.

Jack kisses his neck, his right hand moving to Rhys' half-hard cock, engulfing it in a possessive hold, and Rhys is gone, out just like the lights.

Later he's disturbed by a weak glow, and by Jack animatedly speaking with somebody over his communicator. But as long as the alpha doesn't let go of him, Rhys can't quite bring himself to mind it too much.

He presses his face to Jack's side, and the alpha makes a soothing sound in the back of his throat, fitting a large palm over Rhys' temple — comforting, warm and effectively blocking the light from reaching his eyes.

He's asleep again in the next breath, carried away by the thick smell of them and his alpha's strong voice.

* * *

A loud moan wakes him, and it takes Rhys a moment to realise that it fell from his own lips. He's rutting against something hard, his fingers clenched in the rumpled blanket, a sheen of sweat over his entire body. Slick is leaking from his empty hole, and he whines in frustration, unable to come even with the friction against his cock. A hand takes hold of his hair, tilting his head back, and Rhys blinks his eyes open, still desperately rubbing himself against— against Jack's leg.

“I was just thinking about taking bets on you getting yourself off before waking up,” the alpha informs him, one corner of his mouth tilted upwards.

Rhys places his shaking hand on Jack's knee, using it to draw himself up. He crawls over the alpha's body until he's lying half on top of him, idly thinking about sucking Jack's cock into his mouth again on the way up, looking just as hard as his own. Jack's hands on his shoulders stop him from moving up further, and he humps Jack's thigh, making a sad, confused sound, staring at his alpha's face. 

One of Jack's hands moves down his trembling sides, and he moans again when a finger pushes into him, causing more slickness to run down over his balls and legs.

“You're a mess, Rhysie,” Jack purrs. He looks down at himself critically, sniffs. “ _We_ 're a fucking mess. I don't even wanna know how much we must be reeking by now.” The alpha shakes his head, slapping Rhys' ass with an open palm, enough force behind the blow to make him gasp. “Up.”

Jack forces him into a sitting position then and gets up from the bed, and Rhys follows him hastily, not because he understood what Jack said, but because he's convinced that the alpha is going to leave now, walking out of the apartment stark naked with his cock hard and curved, walking _away from Rhys_.

“Should be... here,” Jack says to himself, while he strolls through the living room as if he owns it, opening a door to their left, and Rhys stumbles after him, staring at the alpha's strong back, his ass, his legs. 

The legs stop in the bathroom, the alpha's hands at his hips and Rhys moulds himself against his back, needing the contact. Rhys lets his head fall against the alpha's shoulder, his tongue drawn to the tempting skin and licking over it.

Jack jumps slightly, making a surprised sound. He turns around then, actually having to catch Rhys when the sudden movement almost makes Rhys fall over. One of his hands moves to Rhys' tailbone, the other to his forehead, covering it completely, and Rhys purrs, eyes falling half shut. There's a displeased tilt to Jack's mouth. “You're running hot.”

Even Rhys' addled brain recognises an opportunity for a great quip when presented with one. “ _You_ 're hot,” he slurs, his hips pressing against Jack's on their own volition, his fingers clutching at the alpha's upper arm.

A snort, and Jack shakes his head. “Tell me something I don't know.” He slaps Rhys' face lightly, saying very slowly, “Shower, princess.”

The alpha smells delicious, and he's so close, so wonderfully cool against Rhys' burning skin and best of all, he's apparently _not leaving_. Rhys smiles, leaning in closer to nuzzle at the red smears on his alpha's chin. The hand on his back moves lower, and he moans when two fingers press into his wet opening.

Jack curses under his breath, his nose against Rhys' temple. He takes a step backwards, stabbing his fingers deep into Rhys' gaping hole, pushing him forward with the sudden force of it, and tearing a shaky whine out of him, Rhys' cock leaking openly between them. “You're going to be the fucking death of me, babe,” the alpha growls, his own cock slapping wetly against Rhys' groin whenever their bodies touch.

They manage to get into the bathtub somehow, but Rhys can't keep his hand off of Jack— he needs him, on his body, _in_ his body. And then the alpha lets go of him in the next moment to reach for the shower head, and Rhys growls, throwing himself at his alpha. 

A distantly terrifying second of falling, and then Jack's scowling at him, one hand on Rhys' shoulder, the other stretched behind himself. The alpha's legs are bend awkwardly, trembling slightly under the strain of keeping the both of them upright, and that's how Rhys almost succeeds in getting Handsome Jack killed in a freak bathroom accident.

Rhys blinks at him with wide eyes, head tilted in confusion, his own fingers curled around the edge of the bathtub.

The alpha eases them down slowly with a grunt, and then he sighs deeply, closes his eyes for a breath. “You know what. I've just decided that we're going to take a bath instead.”

Jack turns the water to hot, and only the strong arms around Rhys' chest keep him from fleeing, because on his heated body it feels _scalding_.

He whimpers and whines, trashing in Jack's hold while the water slowly rises around them, and he's deaf to his alpha's soothing words, blind to the way he holds Rhys' bare shoulder carefully, preventing the complicated mechanism from getting wet.

Teeth dig into his throat, just below the tattoo, and one of the alpha's hands wanders down over his front, over his quivering stomach and past his aching cock to his ass, spreading his hole open.

Rhys lifts his hips on instinct alone, allowing Jack to fuck into him, his fingernails cutting into the alpha's upper arm by now. He moans brokenly, accompanied by Jack's growl, muffled slightly by Rhys' throat, still between his teeth. He only calms down when Jack's cock fills him fully, and he lets his head fall back onto the alpha's shoulder, staring unseeingly at the bright ceiling, his body trembling, lips parted on every breath he takes.

Once Jack realises that the fight has left Rhys, he makes a pleased sound, licking over the sensitive skin he just abused, his palm splaying out over Rhys' groin. The alpha begins to thrust his hips forward, and Rhys stretches his legs out, long enough to press his feet against the other end of the tub, letting Jack thrust into him, while the water slowly raising around them splashes.

It's not an optimal position, and Jack can't hit his prostate like this, though he tries. He puts Rhys' legs over his knees, spreading him until only his toes are still against the end of the tub. Rhys is hard anyway, his cock curved and bobbing in the water.

The alpha turns the water off when it reaches just below Rhys' nipples, and it feels almost like a weight on him, calming somehow, just like Jack behind, around and in him. Despite the steamy temperature, Rhys' body begins to cool, and he sighs, his eyes falling shut.

“See, I told you. A hot bath helps with kids running a fever as well.” Jack's hand settles on Rhys' stomach and his voice is laced with amusement when he adds, “Which you should really remember if you want to be a good baby mama for my amazing offspring.”

Rhys puts his own hand on Jack's, making a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “Seems like _daddy_ already got that part covered for me.” He laughs when Jack drags his nails over his stomach in reprimand, only to moan helplessly when Jack curls his hand around Rhys' cock, jerking him off ruthlessly while he slowly ruts into him.

Rhys leans forward slightly, partially leaning on and desperately hanging on to the edge of the bathtub, while Jack pounds into him with a relentless rhythm, and he comes into Jack's too tight fist with a gasp, watching with one eye how his release spreads in the water.

The alpha bites the spot under his tattoo again, making Rhys shout with the sparks it sends through him, and Jack hums in satisfaction, forcing his knot past the well used ring of Rhys' ass and emptying himself inside of him with a deep growl.

They're both breathing hard for a moment, not moving at all, and then Jack draws his hand through the water once before pushing Rhys back against his chest again. He draws a wet finger over Rhys' left nipple, making him sigh.

Somewhere in the back of his head he tries to file away the information that Jack already knows how to handle kids, because he's sure that means... _something_ , even if he has no hope to figure out what exactly in this moment. The alpha pinches his nipple, and he turns his head, presses his forehead against Jack's throat, inhaling loudly.

Jack's knot is so thick inside of him, and with the water weighting down on them it feels even more intense. Rhys touches Jack's bent leg, the knee lying above the water level. He amuses himself by stroking over the dark hairs there, by making them stick up against the skin.

The alpha's fingers switch to his other nipple. “I can't believe you call this bucket a bathtub,” Jack says, apropos of nothing, and Rhys blinks. “You probably can't even fit your legs into this pathetic thing!” He sounds almost personally offended by this, and Rhys shrugs.

Their apartment is nothing fancy, only Hyperion middle class standard. Fine, lower middle class standard, but it's big enough for Vaughn and him, cosy even, once you get used to the gold-silver motif dominating Helios. And most importantly, it's _theirs_ , earned with many long nights of overtime and more than a few tears of exhaustion and frustration here and there. Yvette never really told them what she did to get her own, higher middle class apartment, but from her secretiveness, Rhys has gathered that she probably did something _really_ questionable for it. Maybe even killed somebody, not that Rhys cares as long as he can have sleepovers there, and raid her ice cream stash from time to time.

So, just because Jack probably has a bathtub as large as their entire apartment doesn't give him the fucking right to talk shit about Rhys' home. “I could ask my boss for a raise,” he says thoughtfully, enjoying the feeling of Jack's rough hairs under his palm, “I think I know exactly how to make him see that I've more than earned it by now.”

The alpha tilts his head, leaning it against Rhys'. “Oh, yeah?” He chuckles quietly, and it travels over to Rhys where their bodies are touching. “You gonna blow him for it, spread your legs for him?”

Honestly, in some ways Jack is almost laughably predictable. Not that Rhys will ever say that to his face, but still. He grins to himself, glad that the alpha can't see it in this position. “Sure, why not,” he replies easily. “Wouldn't be the first time.” He pats Jack's knee, just to make the bold lie even more outrages, practically glowing with pride at having made the alpha walk right into this one.

The fingers on his nipple stop moving, and Jack goes very, very still, and Rhys realises several things at once:

That was a really stupid thing to say.

An eternity ago Yvette said Jack would turn him into a 'Loader Bot punching bag' if he ever so much as suspected that Rhys was playing him, but now Rhys knows for a fact that he probably can't even _begin_ to imagine what Handsome Jack — not Jack — would do to him if he ever learned about The Plan or The Pills.

That was a _really_ stupid thing to say.

Rhys hasn't thought about The Plan in weeks, hasn't thought about Jack as anything else but the alpha he has fallen in... fallen in lust with for months.

He shivers slightly, despite the warm water, because Jack is still so _unnaturally quiet_. Rhys' fingers might even be trembling on the alpha's knee, and he could check if they are— if he could only _make himself move_.

Jack growls, and his hand slowly trails down over Rhys' chest, his tense stomach before fisting around his cock again, still half hard, and Rhys is too surprised to do more than suck in a sharp breath. “You're going to regret saying that, Rhysie.” His voice is carefully controlled, too casual, and Rhys whimpers on the next upstroke. “You're lucky you seem to really need your friends to function, because Handsome Jack... doesn't let anybody touch his things.” 

The alpha's other hand curls around his throat, palm downright cold after being outside of the water for so long, and Rhys gasps at the contact, eyes open wide when Jack tilts his head to the side so the alpha can look at him.

Jack shifts his hips forward abruptly, making his knot pull at Rhys' opening. He flicks one finger over the tip of Rhys' cock, and the orgasm takes Rhys entirely by surprise, leaving him shaking with the sudden intensity of it, caught in the alpha's piercing gaze and unable to escape it.

A helpless sound escapes Rhys' parted lips when Jack just keeps stroking his cock, uncaring of the aftershocks still rocking through Rhys. He moves his hand down to the alpha's, trying to get it off of his sensitive cock, but Jack only tightens his grasp on him, and tears prickle at the corners of Rhys' eyes with the exquisite pain this brings him.

“Jack, please,” he says shakily, staring at the alpha imploringly, his nails digging into the back of Jack's hand.

One corner of Jack's mouth curls upwards. He lets go of Rhys' throat to fasten his fingers around Rhys' wrist instead, forcing both against Rhys' chest, immobilising him completely and with laughable ease.

Rhys doesn't feel like laughing right now, and he trashes in the alpha's hold, trying to get away from the cruel palm mercilessly fisting his cock. He only succeeds in shifting the thick knot inside of him until he's hard again, tears falling from his eyes. “Stop, please,” Rhys begs when he feels another orgasm threatening to burn through him.

Jack makes a low sound in the back of his throat. “Just enjoying some quality time with my favourite little toy.” His voice is deep, sounding _satisfied_ , and where usually Rhys would bristle at the alpha calling his cock 'little', he can now only tremble in Jack's arms, whimper loudly.

“I'm sorry,” Rhys chokes out, though he doesn't really even know what he's apologising for, and he comes again with a sob. He needs time to recuperate or he'll fall apart, and Jack just _keeps stroking his cock_.

The alpha presses his temple to Rhys', his tongue licking the tears from Rhys' cheeks. “Oh, I know you are, Rhysie,” he says softly, almost cooing. He squeezes the tip of Rhys' cock with two fingers and Rhys' _screams_ —

* * *

Rhys groans, sluggishly blinking his eyes open. He's lying spread out over his bed, his aching cock pressed against it. Despite the insistent need still dominating his body, it's thankfully soft, because Rhys is pretty sure otherwise it would _really_ hurt.

A shameless finger traces over his hole, stretched by something wide and unyielding— Rhys moves his hips carefully, experimentally, blearily searching for Jack.

The alpha is sitting cross-legged against the wall again, a folder of papers in his lap. He's not looking back at Rhys, but there's a telling smirk on his lips when his other hand moves away from Rhys' ass and to the papers as well.

Rhys scowls, more at the papers than at the alpha himself. 

“Couldn't just let your pretty ass go empty,” Jack tells him earnestly, attention still on the papers, but he throws Rhys a cheeky glance out of the corners of his eyes.

At least the alpha's still here, and still naked. Rhys sighs, fingers splayed out on the new cover Jack must have thrown over the bed. He doesn't really know for how long he was out or how the alpha managed to get the two of them out of the bathroom in one piece. It probably wasn't for too long, though, because while the heat is still wrecking his body, actually making him _happy_ about the plug shoved into him, his skin doesn't feel like it's burning off of him anymore. He blinks slowly, realising that he hasn't eaten anything in an entire day — or two days? — and his stomach growls, as if on cue.

Rhys reaches out to touch Jack's right foot, voice plaintive. “Hungry.”

The alpha raises both eyebrows at him, entirely unimpressed. “Do I look like a nanny or something?”

Rhys doesn't roll his eyes, but it's a very close thing. Instead he slowly raises himself up onto his arm, only to drop down again immediately with a sharp sound. “Hurts,” he says quietly, looking up at Jack through lowered eyelashes.

For a moment Jack only considers him, a frown marring his forehead, his jaw tense. Then he places the folder on the bedside table before throwing both hands in the air. He gets up, says through clenched teeth, “ _Fine_.” 

Rhys watches Jack's ass until it's out of view before he languorously stretches out over the bed, humming contently and hiding his smirk in the rumbled bed. An alpha will never doubt that they're stronger, superior and most importantly: needed. At least in that regard Jack's just like the others.

He inhales deeply, wondering if their mingled scent has already spread through the entire apartment. Even with the air circulation going, the smell of sex and his heat is still thick, and he looks around his room, spotting the soiled bedcover haphazardly thrown into on corner. Rhys huffs, amused and not surprised that Jack couldn't be bothered with doing more than that. 

Idly, he wonders if he shouldn't clean it at all, keep it just like this. His smile turns lopsided. Maybe it could help with the drops, even if Vaughn and Yvette would probably want to burn it right away.

Footsteps getting closer, and then Jack's back already, which is good, because that means Rhys doesn't have to think anymore, not about drops, and not about the time after this heat. The alpha is carrying a tray which Rhys recognises as one of their own, but there's something bright green on it he _doesn't_ recognise, and Rhys knows their fridge's contents by heart.

He files that away for later as well, curiously eyeing the fruit slices, while Jack makes himself comfortable at the head of the bed again, a pillow wedged between his back and the wall.

“Dinner time,” Jack declares proudly. He places the tray next to himself, spreads his legs and pats the place between them, an amused tilt to his mouth.

Rhys is actually really hungry by now, and so he doesn't need to be told twice. He raises up on his arm, drawing his knees underneath his middle and pressing himself up into a sitting position. A pleasant shudder runs down his back when the thick plug inside of him moves. He scoots closer to Jack, and his eyes follow Jack's treasure trail without conscious thought, stopping at the nest of dark curls at the end of it. Jack's cock is half-hard and lying temptingly against Jack's thigh. Rhys licks his lips.

The alpha chuckles. “If that's all you wanted for dinner, I just got up for nothing, babe.” He places his left hand on Rhys' side, drawing him closer until his knees are pressed against the inside of Jack's upper legs, his palm on Jack's knee. “I was told this stuff is delicious and nutritious, and for the price I paid for it, you better gobble down every single piece of it.” He takes one of the juicy slices, holding it in front of Rhys, and Rhys leans forward, slowly taking it into his mouth.

He makes a surprised sound when the taste of the fruit explodes in his mouth, sweet with a distinctive aftertaste he has no hope to describe. 

Jack caresses Rhys' side with his thumb, voice thoughtful but amused. “Either you're a really convincing faker or it's actually good.”

Rhys chews slowly, savouring the unfamiliar taste and texture in his mouth. “It's actually _very_ good.” He smiles and draws his fingernails over Jack's knee, says quietly, “Thank you.” He doesn't only mean the food or the drink earlier, all no doubt expensive enough that actually knowing the amount of cash Jack spent on them would make Rhys' eyes cross.

But that the alpha is still here, that means something. Rhys is well aware that he's blushing right now, feeling warm in a way that has nothing to do with his heat or how close their naked bodies are. Before Jack can open his mouth and ruin the moment, Rhys adds quickly, “Your cock will just have to wait until dessert.”

A snort, and then Jack actually starts laughing, loud and freely, and forget about blushing— Rhys is sure his heart is going to _burst_ with the sudden rush of emotion. 

The alpha curls his hands around the back of Rhys' throat, presses his lips roughly against Rhys' and his laughter into Rhys' mouth, and Rhys is never going to forget this moment, the charming wrinkles at the corners of Jack's eyes. “That's the least you should do to show your gratitude,” Jack whispers huskily against his wet lips. He leans back again then, leaving his palm on Rhys' neck. 

The next slice is thrown carelessly into Jack's mouth, and after a moment he shrugs with one shoulder. “It's okay, I guess.” He feeds Rhys another one, avidly watching every bite Rhys takes, and Rhys diligently sucks the juice from the alpha's fingers, even if they will just get dirtied again with the next slice.

Jack's grinning, obviously enjoying this just as much as Rhys is, and when the last slice drip onto his cock his smirk grows even wider. “Well, would you look at that,” Jack says slowly, pointedly staring down at himself. “Looks like dessert is served.”

Rhys tries to stifle the giggle, he really does, but the sound bursts from his lips anyway, and Jack huffs, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

It's obvious that Jack did this on purpose, but he doesn't mind, and when Jack pushes his head down to his lap, Rhys goes easily.

It might not be ice cream, but Rhys always liked dessert.

* * *

“Are you the head of Science Division A or do I actually pay you so you can sit around all day with your thumb up your ass?”

Rhys' frowns, ripped out of his nap by Jack's angry voice. He draws his hand over his face, blinking up at the alpha from where he's curled into a tight ball at his feet, the blanket lying mostly over Rhys and partly covering Jack's feet.

The alpha is stretched out on his back, one arm under his head and the other holding his comm in front of his face. “Just in case you're wondering: That was a rhetorical question, dumbass.”

With a quiet groan Rhys gets up onto his knees, letting the blanket fall away. He shivers when the warm air hits his sweaty skin, his body running hot again, his hole leaking and unbearably _empty_.

He places his palm on Jack's calf, strokes over the hairy skin to get his attention.

All he gets is a fleeting glance and a brusque shake of the alpha's head, the displeased line of his mouth not even twitching. “You told me you and your team could handle the prototype.” Jack's voice is calm, subdued, and Rhys knows whoever the to him muted person on the other end of this conversation is.... they're genuinely fucked.

Which is something Rhys would also very much like to say about himself, but it looks like Jack's in Work Mode and still frustratingly immune to the scent of Rhys' heat, thick even to his own nose. The leg under his hand twitches slightly, a confirmation of the alpha's restlessness, and Rhys scowls, for one moment more disappointed than aroused.

“You already told me that something went wrong. I'm waiting for an explanation and a solution now, Dave.”

Rhys' fingers flex on Jack's leg, and he shivers with the need bubbling in his blood, helpless in the face of his alpha's disinterest. His eyes fall on Jack's cock, dark and slightly curved, and Rhys thinks, _that's the only thing I need right now_. And if the alpha would rather chat with 'Dave', then so be it.

He shuffles forward, lying half over Jack's legs, supporting himself with a palm next to his thighs. One long inhale above Jack's crotch fills him with the alpha's intoxicating scent, and the one-sided conversation falls away just like that. He kisses the tip of Jack's cock first, swirling his tongue over it before slowly taking the length into his mouth.

The body underneath him shifts slightly, and then there's a hand on his head, and Rhys knows that if the alpha tries to pull him off now, he'll bite down, consequences be damned. But the fingers only grip his hair, and Rhys hums, feeling the weight on his tongue thicken.

Rhys sucks and swallows, ignoring the appreciative growl that enters Jack's voice, because the alpha is still more interested in prototypes and letting Rhys do all the work. He lets the cock slip from his mouth as soon as he deems it hard enough, only dimly aware of the sound of protest that Jack makes. Rising hastily, Rhys turns around without thinking about it, crouching over Jack's groin, and he rubs his ass against the hard cock, smearing his slick on it.

A hand touches his thigh, and he growls, straightening his back and batting it away without losing his balance. Rhys doesn't need any help to get what he wants, and he proves it by reaching back to grip the alpha's cock tightly, lowering himself on it with a loud sigh.

He leans forward once he's impaled himself, his fingers splayed out on the bed, moving his hips only slightly, back and forth, only enough the feel the thick cock inside of him, the perfect stretch of it.

His own cock is bobbing in the air, the tip leaking, and his movements gain urgency, trying to get the length to hit his prostate. Rhys throws his head back with a moan, eyes closed in bliss, fucking himself in earnest on the cock spearing him open.

The toes in front of him twitch, and then a hand wanders to his cock. Rhys growls, batting the unnecessary appendage away once more, wishing he had his metal arm on so he could make the slap sting. He doesn't need anything but the cock inside of him, and he blinks away the sweat gathered on his eyelashes, the strands of hair plastered to his forehead.

More movement underneath him, and then there's a warm chest against his back, and when Jack speaks this time, close to Rhys' ear, he's impossible to ignore.

“Look, David. Dave, whatever,” Jack says, voice rough, his bold hand unerringly finding its way to Rhys' balls and cupping them in a warm and firm hold. “ _I don't care._ You're going to deal with this mess you've made, and if I don't like the way you dealt with it later, then...” He trails off, licking over Rhys' neck, and Rhys is weak after all, because he purrs at the contact. “I don't actually need to finish this sentence, do I?”

Teeth dig into his shoulder, and Rhys moans, rubbing himself against Jack's hand, his own fingers pressing into the alpha's thigh.

“And you know what,” Jack growls, “tell the other overpaid assholes not to call me, 'cause I'll be busy for a while.” 

And then the alpha's comm is flying over the bed, landing on the floor with a dull thud, and Rhys blinks, a weird feeling of déjà vu settling over him. A clever finger teases at his stretched hole, and he shudders, turning his head slightly when Jack's chin comes to rest on his shoulder. 

“Can't leave you alone even for a moment, hm, babe?” There's a crooked smile on the alpha's lips, eyes half open but gaze still intense.

Rhys hums, rotating his hips. “I was doing fine on my own,” he says sweetly, unwilling to believe that Jack won't just pick up the comm later, as soon as his fingers are itching for work again.

“I could see that.” Jack huffs, a breath of air against Rhys' sweaty skin. His other hand moves to Rhys' stomach, and Rhys shivers. He fondles Rhys' balls, voice quiet and thoughtful. “I think it's time I remind you who's holding the reins here, Rhysie.”

The warning undertone has only just registered in Rhys' ears when the alpha suddenly draws his legs sidewards, letting himself fall forward and taking Rhys down with him.

A startled noise escapes his lips, and he only just manages to get his arm in front of himself, keeping his face from landing in the balled up blanket. Jack's cock slips out of him, and Jack's large palms draw his hips up, raising him up onto his knees with his ass in the air. One of the rough hands settles on his back, keeping him down, and then the alpha pushes into him again in one hard thrust, drawing a startled groan from him.

Jack chuckles breathlessly, patting Rhys' side with his other hand. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” He fucks Rhys ruthlessly, setting a punishing rhythm and sticking with it until Rhys is gasping helplessly, his fingers curled in the sheets, cock dripping openly.

He's on the edge of an orgasm when the thrusts slow down, and Rhys whines, something that might have been the alpha's name.

“I'm listening, Rhysie,” Jack says, pleased, and he draws his fingernails down Rhys' back, making him arch into the pain.

“Jack, please.” He pushes his ass back against the alpha, trying to make him pick up the pace again.

The hand wanders to Rhys' throat, pressing down there, and Rhys almost chokes on the moan tearing out of him. “You do beg so nicely,” Jack muses darkly, and then he's fucking Rhys in earnest again, letting him breathe only enough to feel the lack of air.

Rhys is dizzy, small, eager sounds falling from his open mouth. Drool is running down his chin, and then the alpha pushes his knot into him, growling, and Rhys is coming as well, trembling with the intensity of it.

His alpha falls on him, only in the last moment turning slightly so that they're lying on their sides, Jack's right arm under Rhys' head. His other hand lazily touches Rhys' stomach, slowly being filled with hot come, and Jack's heavy breaths fan over Rhys' neck, his voice hoarse. “Hope you've learned your lesson.”

Rhys purrs, folding his own hand over the one on his stomach and letting his eyes fall shut.

* * *

To Rhys surprise and delight, Jack makes no move to touch either his comm or any reports again.

Much later, they're curled together on the couch, sweat still cooling on Rhys' skin, the alpha's cock and knot tugged right where they belong, inside of his body. He rests his head on Jack's shoulder, his arm around the back of the couch. With one ear he listens to the weapon presentation on the TV ('Helps to know what the competition is doing. And this is a lot more interesting than just reading the bullet points later.'), idly licking any stretch of Jack's skin he can reach. 

He'd probably be miffed about the alpha indulging in work like this, but Jack can't seem to stop touching him, his hands slowly trailing over Rhys' sides, his back, then down to his bent legs and back up again. The alpha is sucking another bruise into his skin, and having Jack's focused attention like this, even after sex is... a bit overwhelming, if Rhys is being honest.

Rhys can feel himself slipping away, more intensely even than with Vaughn and Yvette, and he still tries to resist the tempting pull, because... he's never had that with Jack before, and now the looming reality of it seems almost scary.

Jack's hands press him slightly to the side, and Rhys makes a noise of protest at the disturbance. 

A low, soothing sound, and then careful fingers trace over his right side, where skin meets the complex technology embedded into him.

He shivers, nervously sucking on Jack's shoulder. It always feels weird when somebody touches him there, even if it's somebody he's comfortable with. There's always the niggling worry about a careless movement damaging the fine mechanisms.

A careful finger traces over an especially sensitive part of it, and Rhys tenses, a sharp noise escaping his parted lips.

Jack presses his lips against his cheek, voice quiet. “Just checking something. I still need to make you a new arm.”

“I like my arm,” Rhys mumbles into Jack's skin, relaxing again.

The alpha snorts softly. “Of course you do, princess. But you also liked the one you wore to the pretty dress.”

It's not a question, but Rhys nods anyway, goosebumps breaking out on his skin when he remembers being paraded around in the tiny black dress, and at what followed after.

Jack leans forward, and then his tongue follows the scars on Rhys' right shoulder, and Rhys moans shakily, digging his nails into the backrest.

He shifts restlessly on Jack's lap, moving the knot inside of him, and when Jack grabs the back of his head, Rhys stops thinking altogether, falling into the biting kiss, his alpha's embrace, and sweet oblivion.

* * *

He wakes with a groan, his body aching. 

Rhys blinks his eyes open, taking inventory of his hurts. Skin? Sensitive, but not sweaty anymore. Cock? Soft and sore. Ass? Still a bit slippery, and _very_ sore. His limbs? He stretches them hesitantly, careful not to jostle the warm body next to him. 

Rhys bites his lip, swallowing a whine. Yep, everything definitely hurts, he's so glad he checked for himself.

A quick glance at his clock reveals that it's early afternoon, on the fifth... Rhys frowns, worrying his lip between his teeth. No, on the sixth day of his heat. Or what’s left of it anyway. Now the air just smells thickly of sex and not of _more_ , making Rhys actually want to crank up the ventilation. He turns his head to the side.

His alpha is lying next to him, one of his arms dangling off the bed, and the other one lying possessively over Rhys' thighs. The lines of his mask are smooth, his hair an utter mess, and he's snoring, and Rhys realises that this is the sound that woke him up.

Rhys' heart flutters inside of his chest, and he smiles helplessly, staring at Jack's relaxed form until his eyes start to hurt as well, actually tearing up but wanting to burn the picture into his memory.

A beep from somewhere to their right, and Jack jolts awake with an inarticulate mumble, propping himself up on his forearms, looking ahead in confusion.

His alpha's comm.

Rhys curses silently. His heat is over and work is calling again, as if on cue. Something a lot like panic grips him, because he's not ready yet to let go of their time together. And if his alpha— if Jack leaves now, Rhys knows something irreparable inside of him will break, and he honestly isn't sure if he'll be able to pick up the pieces again.

He stretches his hand out, tentatively touching Jack's side with his fingers.

His alpha turns to him, seemingly more awake now. One corner of his mouth quirks up, voice still rough from sleep. “Hey, babe.” He stretches his arms over his head, groaning, and Rhys can feel him slip away, words lodged in a suddenly tight throat.

Jack exhales loudly, leaning forward—

Rhys grabs his upper arm, probably too forcefully, because Jack turns back to him once more, one eyebrow raised. He kicks the blanket off of him, getting a bit frantic when it becomes tangled with his legs. “I need you,” Rhys says quietly, spreading his legs, and staring up at Jack through lowered eyelashes.

His alpha tilts his head to the side, staring at him with focused eyes.

And Rhys knows what he must look like right now— tired, his cock lying on his thigh, completely soft. He spreads his legs wider, letting some of the desperation he feels colour his voice. “Please.”

Jack grins, pushing himself up and between Rhys' thighs, his palms warm on the inside of Rhys' lower legs. “You're just insatiable, aren't you, Rhysie?”

 _For you_ , Rhys wants to say, _yes, always._ Instead he nods, crossing his ankles behind Jack's back, drawing him closer.

The alpha grinds himself against Rhys' ass, cock only half hard. He growls, one of his hands moving between them, and then Jack hisses, “Fuck, I'm sore.”

 _Tell me about it_ , Rhys thinks. He curls his hand in his alpha's hair, blinking slowly at him. “It's okay, if I've worn you out,” he says sadly, lying through his teeth without any shame.

Jack laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head. He spits on his palm, drawing it down between their bodies, wincing only slightly when he begins to fist his cock. “Worn out? Hah!” He shakes his head again. “I'm Handsome fucking Jack. I don't even know what those words _mean_.”

Rhys smiles, his chest lightening. His alpha isn't leaving yet, and the quiet, grunting sounds he makes, the concentrated look on his face are enough to make Rhys shiver, his spent cock twitching. He draws his nails over Jack's scalp, and Jack chuckles.

“You ready, babe?” his alpha drawls, and Rhys nods, probably too enthusiastically, because Jack huffs, smirking. 

Rhys pushes down on Jack's head until Jack relents, leaning down, and Rhys hides his face in the crook of his alpha's necks when the thick cock starts pushing into him again. He bites his lip, because it _hurts_ , even more so than he knew it would. There's not nearly enough slick left in him, not like before, and Jack pauses, breathing heavily, his fingers flexing on Rhys' thighs.

He puts his teeth to Jack's right shoulder, digging his fingernails into the other one, just in case his alpha is thinking about saying something or about pulling out. Rhys wills his body to relax, wanting to have at least this if he can't have his alpha completely.

Because Rhys has realised that he didn't just choose any alpha — he chose Handsome Jack, and for Handsome Jack, Hyperion will always come first.

Jack presses his temple against the top of Rhys' head, voice soft. “Let me in, Rhysie.”

And Rhys wants nothing else. He inhales deeply, filling his lungs with Jack's scent, and he nods, making a quiet sound.

A murmur of approval, of praise, and then his alpha continues pushing into him, slow and agonizing, and Rhys swallows a whimper, grinds his teeth into Jack's flesh to stifle the traitorous sound.

Jack hisses out a quiet curse, sinking into him fully, and Rhys is probably breathing too loudly, making the telling hitch in it even more apparent. His alpha draws soothing circles on Rhys' ass with his fingers, not moving apart from that, obviously waiting for Rhys to relax.

Rhys knows it won't get better, not like this, and he growls, “ _Move_.”

His alpha sighs. “Pushy, pushy.” But he draws his hips back by an inch before snapping them forward again, repeating the movement, carefully controlled, and his fingers dig into Rhys' thighs, holding him fast.

It takes a horribly confusing moment until Rhys realises that Jack's aiming for his prostate, trying to make this as pleasurable for him as possible, and tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. He presses a barely there kiss to Jack's neck, to the small gap between the mask and the real skin of his face, and then he moans brokenly, because his alpha knows his body better than anyone, better even than Rhys himself, and every brush against his prostate makes him shudder. His cock hardens between them, and his body even manages to produce a bit of slick to ease Jack's way, and he moans again, loud and drawn out.

Rhys makes a panicked noise in the back of his throat when Jack leans back, but he only moves far enough away so that their eyes meet, their noses almost touching. He can't look away from Jack's eyes, from the way his hair is plastered to his forehead, the carefully groomed grey streaks in it more striking than usual.

Jack keeps a slow pace, hitting Rhys' prostate with almost every thrust, and Rhys doesn't know what to do with his hand, with himself. He leans up, fingers splayed over Jack's back, silently begging for a kiss, and his alpha complies, pressing their mouths together, just as slow as the rest of his movements.

And Jack keeps his eyes open through all of it, forcing Rhys to do the same.

Rhys' cock is hard, dripping onto his trembling stomach, and all he can do is breathe against Jack's lips, let Jack see everything there is to see.

One of Jack's hands moves to the right side of Rhys' throat, and he smashes their mouths together one last time, hard enough their teeth click against each other before he presses his face against the other side of Rhys' neck. 

The fingers of Jack's other hand curl around Rhys' cock, teasing at its wet tip, and under Rhys' palm Jack's back is tense, just like his voice when he says quietly, “Don't say no.” 

There's an edge to his words, one Rhys might not have noticed if he wasn't so focused on his alpha.

Jack's lips are hovering over Rhys' black tattoo, his rapid breaths fanning over the sweaty skin, waiting—

As if there was ever a real possibility of Rhys denying him.

He bares his neck even further in answer, drawing his fingernails over his alpha's back. “What are you waiting for,” he presses out through a tight throat, and Jack growls, his teeth latching onto the centre of the black circles, biting _down_ —

An electric pulse races through Rhys, a shock to his entire system, an avalanche that buries him under its weight. 

He barely notices when Jack's knot pushes into him, his orgasm nothing more than an afterthought.

An eternity that lasts a second later, and his alpha lets up from him, still growling, and Rhys doesn't even think about biting Jack's throat— his teeth are already digging in, accompanied by a low sound of his own, his cock still spurting weakly between them.

When Rhys lets go of the bruised skin of Jack's neck, his alpha leans their foreheads together, his eyes only half open, and a satisfied smile stretching his lips. Rhys knows he probably looks just the same.

They share the air between them, Jack's come filling Rhys, and in that moment there's nothing in the world that matters but being in his alpha's arms.

* * *

After a week together, the absence of Jack's presence is a nearly tangible thing, and so Rhys knows that he's alone even before he's fully awake.

He rolls onto his side, staring at the door, and he can't bring himself to get up even though he really needs to pee.

It was nice how everything else faded away during the heat. Rhys already misses that, because now he notices he's really thirsty and hungry on top of that.

And yet he still doesn't get up, unwilling to leave the bed Jack and he made an utter mess of.

There's an insistent stretch in his ass, and Rhys can't even bring himself to be mad about it. Some omegas get woken up with a kiss. Rhys gets a plug worked into him, while he's still asleep, and then his alpha steals away without so much as a goodbye. That's just the way it is.

He pushes his face into the rumbled blanket, inhaling their mingled scents. Rhys scrunches his nose up, wondering if maybe he should rethink not cleaning the sheets after all.

With a groan he rolls out of the bed, every step to the bathroom showing him just how overstrained his body is — even peeing hurts, and he grits his teeth, handling his cock with careful fingers.

He washes his hand after, and then he draws his hair away from his face with a wet palm before critically examining his reflection in the mirror.

Completely unsurprisingly, Rhys looks like a total wreck. A bit like he partied for a week and then fell into a grinder. 

His throat is a collection of hickeys of varied intensity, his chest just as marked. A glance down shows that his hips don't look any less colourful, and he places his palm on one of the hand-sized bruises. He presses down lightly, only enough to feel the dull ache of it, a pleasant shudder crawling down his back.

For a second he considers getting rid of the plug, because his hole is probably the sorest part of him, which is saying something—

He touches his stomach absently, bloated slightly by his alpha's come, and changes his mind.

At least to that part of Jack he can hold on to for a little while longer. Rhys leaves the bathroom again with one unfocused look at the dried blood on his neck tattoo, and the only slowly fading smell of sex feels a bit like a comforting caress.

Rhys stops at his door, blinks.

There's a piece of paper on his bedside table, folded so only the red letters 'ential' are visible. He walks over to it, at first thinking that Jack must have forgotten it.

He remains standing when he picks up the paper, because he's pretty sure he'd rethink the entire plug situation if he attempted to sit down now.

Unfolding the paper reveals the 'confidential' stamp in its entirety, printed on what seems to be the outlines of a building. Rhys doesn't quite now what to do with this, but then he notices the letters showing through from the other side, and he turns the plan around.

Scrawled words great him, bold and neater than Rhys would have expected, surprising just like the man himself.

Jack actually left him a message.

_Somebody in Science Lab 2 tried to burn everything to ashes, leaving me at least five people to get spaced for being staggeringly incompetent. Maybe something more creative if any of the shiny toys survived._

_Thought about waking you, but you didn't even twitch when I pushed the plug into you. Probably drooling too loudly to hear me, anyway._

_Eat something healthy, leave the plug in, etc._

_See you later, babe._

_-J_

_PS: Next heat, we're going somewhere_ really _nice. I'm thinking Aquator or Eden-6. Intelligent (!) input welcome._

Rhys disregards the bit about drooling, because he totally doesn't do that. Often. But he rereads the last part, again and again, lips stretched into a wide grin, feeling a bit faint with the sheer amount of happiness rushing through him.

The door to the apartment opens, and then two voices reach his ears, and Rhys puts the paper into his bedside table. If Jack actually needs those plans on it back, then he's out of luck, because Rhys will fight tooth and nail to keep it now.

He shrugs into a faded sleep-shirt, not bothering with anything else because it's long enough to cover his middle, and the thought of clothes on his cock is actually enough to make him a bit sick.

The apartment door closes again, leaving only one pair of footsteps coming closer, and Rhys can't stop staring at his bedside table, can't stop thinking about the message. 

The edges of his mouth are actually beginning to hurt a bit.

“Rhys? Please tell me that you're okay,” Vaughn calls from somewhere in the living room.

“I'm okay!” Rhys answer dutifully. Actually, he's never felt better, even if he's more bruise than anything else. He nudges his hip against the door so it's only ajar, more to protect Vaughn from the view of the messy bed and Rhys himself than anything else.

“That's good. Jack actually sent somebody to tell me to check in on you, and that had us really worried. Oh, and Yvette told me to say 'hi'. She had to leave again, because she said another minute in this stench of another alpha and she would have started to spit into the corners to eke out her territory.” Vaughn's voice comes closer, amusement clear in it. He doesn't try to enter Rhys' door or to look inside, because they've known each other for long enough to read their signals, no matter how silent they are.

Poor Yvette. Rhys wonders how long the smell of Jack is going to last, eyeing the bedding speculatively.

“Yvette's right, though.” Vaughn makes a disgusted sound. “It's _everywhere_.” 

A pause. 

“Please tell me you didn't fuck in my room,” Vaughn asks quietly from the other side of the door, and Rhys is pretty sure he's crossing his arms in front of his chest, making a face.

Rhys is also pretty sure that Jack tried to do exactly that, but Rhys rubbed his cock against the alpha's stomach while Jack was carrying him, and Jack got impatient and fucked him against Vaughn's door instead. Obviously, he doesn't mention any of that. “We didn't!” he calls, because Vaughn's steps are moving away from him again. Maybe Vaughn won't notice anything.

There's a moment of drawn out silence. “You can tell Jack that he's going to pay for a new couch, because I'm _never going to touch this one again_!”

Rhys' shoulders are shaking with silent laughter, and he presses his palm against his neck tattoo, against the throbbing bite there. In his mind, the blossoming bond with his alpha is singing, sending a warming thrum through his body, and Rhys smiles softly to himself, closes his eyes.

 _I should probably wait a bit until I tell Vaughn about that_ , he thinks wryly, listening to his friend bemoan the loss of their couch.


End file.
